Ann Arbor Review


Paul B. Roth
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Amit Parmessur
Lana Bella
Elisavietta Ritchie
Peycho Kanev
Helen Gyigya
Alan Britt
Shutta Crum
Ali Znaidi
Lyn Lifshin
Ann Christine Tabaka
Silvia Scheibli
Fahredin Shehu
Robert Nisbet
Laszlo Slomovitz
Rajnish Mishra
Keith Moul

Eddie Awusi
Andy N
Running Cub
Sanjeev Sethi

Alex Ferde
Deji W. Adesoye
W. M. Rivera
Shantanu Siuli
Duane Locke

Jennifer Burd
Violeta Allmuca

Fred Wolven
Michael Lee Johnson

Anik Chatterjee

Richard Gartee
John Grey

Ann Arbor Review

is an independent

International Journal & ezine

Copyright (c) 2018 Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida

AAR history note:  in print 1967 - 1980.  Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.  As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 48 years all together....


Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven

Submissions via e-mail:




Far removed from the society of man,
She tucked herself behind a dank and dingy night,
Behind the sound of eager muezzin;
Clad in mascara 
And a black disenchanted chador;
a broken frame,
Governed by fears and extremism.
She loves her groom but hates the war.
Lumps her weak and slumped breast
Into the mouth of her infant baby, 
that begs a question of the world.
Always led through monstrous indignity 
Of sexual molestation and violation:
Tortured into compliance and complacence,
Fled from embattled cities into captivity,
This bearer of a caliphate's tales.
What more cruel torture, barbaric killing,
Cursed overture, did her sight grip? 
Dovetailing into the night,
Prayer book in arms.



She approached me,
With a catalyzed look, 
That hung on two worlds.
Covered in a shawl of reeds and dust,
She picked her emaciated steps,
Through mangled roads; 
Aiming to cross her ordeals,
Of genocidal tatmadaw's fire.
She is too weak to flee but she is fleeing.
Her torturous life lay within her manacled years.
Hoisted like a failing Union Jack.
She lives in death and dead in life.
Appearing and reappearing like a shadow person.
The earth trembled beneath her fragile steps.
This feminine victim of rohingya ethnic cleansing,
Walking unsteadily like a frightened child,
When he schools his legs to walk.
She is one, out of a sagging list.
Her sense of human hood,
Is dripping off her skin,
Like water; splashed on the back of a duck:
This ghostly woman,
Once the envy of a noble sea.
Her footfalls falling,
Like a poor kiss on the earth.
As she made it through the shrubbery.
Into another devastating life.
Cruelties in IDPs.



Eddie Awusi, Benin City, Edo State, Nigeria



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